


Make Your Move

by GracefulLioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Mutual Pining, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracefulLioness/pseuds/GracefulLioness
Summary: When a locked door traps Ginny with her longtime crush, will another door open?
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 29
Kudos: 39
Collections: You Pick Two





	Make Your Move

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ladykenz347's You Pick Two Flash Fiction Comp. My prompt was Neville and Ginny stuck in a broom cupboard.  
> Big thanks my amazing AlphaBet!

Nothing about George and Angelina’s wedding had gone according to plan—at least in Ginny’s eyes. Sure, the wedding had gone off without a hitch and her brother had a beautiful new bride. That was all well and good. But Ginny hadn’t planned on attending stag, and she _certainly_ hadn’t intended to spend most of the reception locked in a bloody broom cupboard. 

When Ron drunkenly knocked over a centerpiece, scattering broken glass, flowers, and water all over the dance floor, Ginny jumped up immediately to retrieve a broom. 

In hindsight, she probably should have just used her wand, but she was grateful for the excuse to step away from the party. Mum had been pestering her all evening about why she and Harry couldn’t make it work. How could she tell her that she’d set her sights on someone else? A person who now kindly offered to help and followed her out of the opulently-decorated tent. 

Neville trailed behind Ginny as she made her way into the house. The broom cupboard was through the kitchen and down a narrow corridor. 

Ginny stepped inside. “Thanks, Neville. Just don’t shut the—”

_Click._

“—door.” 

Neville’s eyes were wide when she turned, his hand still on the knob that she knew wouldn’t open from the inside. And she’d left her wand at the table. “Sorry,” he grimaced. “I didn’t want to block the corridor.” 

With only a tiny window above the top shelf, she could barely see his apologetic expression. 

“No matter.” She smiled. “Have you got a wand?” 

Neville shook his head.

Ginny frowned and stepped around him, her body brushing against his as she slid past. With a sharp intake of air, Neville shuffled to his right. 

Shaking the handle, Ginny knew that they were well and truly stuck. That latch had always been finicky. The family just knew to always keep the door open when inside. 

She pounded on the door, but with everyone out in the garden enjoying the party, they were likely to be stranded for a while. 

Turning around, she shrugged. “Nothing to do but wait, I suppose.” 

Neville thrust his hands into his pockets. “Sorry, Ginny. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend George’s wedding.” 

“It’s alright… _really_.” Ginny eyed him as he stared at his shoes. He cut quite the dashing figure in his dress robes—tall and muscular. But his face… he still had that soft, kind face he’d always had. The same face that had blushed as he asked her to the Yule Ball.

They’d shared a broom cupboard _that_ evening as well, but not by accident. She’d had her first kiss that night, clumsy, tentative, a bit too wet perhaps, but sweet and charming… _perfect._ She smiled at the memory, smoothing the skirt of her bridesmaid’s dress nervously.

Her crush had crept up slowly. Some time after she and Harry had split, she’d decided to focus on her Quidditch career. No more men. But who had come to every match? Who had cheered her on with every win and bolstered her spirits with every loss? Neville. There had been times when she thought he might want more than just her friendship, but in the year that Ginny had been single, he had yet to make a move. 

“This is rather familiar isn’t it?” His lips twitched as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. 

Ginny’s heart stuttered in her chest. A laugh bubbled out of her lips. “It is. At least this time Snape won’t burst in and deduct house points.” 

Neville laughed and lifted one large hand to rub the back of his neck. 

Heart pounding, she smoothed out the skirt of her bridesmaid’s dress. Why was she so nervous? She’d been alone with Neville dozens of times… perhaps hundreds. But there was something about the way he was looking at her. She could feel his gaze dragging over her face, her curled hair, her freckled shoulders… 

Neville had been timid in his youth, but Ginny had hoped that his increased confidence as an adult would translate to him making a move. But perhaps she would have to be the bold one. 

She reached across the narrow space between them to grab hold of the front of his robes and took a small step toward him. His eyes widened slightly.

Her hand splayed on his chest as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. Neville swallowed, his eyes darting quickly between hers. 

Ginny waited, feeling a bit like she was approaching a skittish deer. Neville was confident in many ways—as a friend, as a herbologist—but with women...perhaps he was a little more cautious. 

His long fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder before sliding to cup the nape of her neck. A thrill ran through her as his lips quirked, and then he was leaning in. He paused for the briefest moment before he kissed her gently. 

Neville’s heart beat rapidly under her hand as she returned the kiss, tilting her face up to meet him. Her hands moved, sliding up his broad chest to encircle his neck. His fingers were tangled in her hair, strong arms drawing her closer until their bodies were flush against each other. 

His lips moved against Ginny's like a dance, making her head spin. She stood on tiptoe to get closer to him and they stumbled, her back hitting the wall of the cupboard with a thump. A mumbled apology and a breathy laugh, and they were back to snogging. His hands gripped her waist and their hips collided. She moaned. 

With a creak, the cupboard was flooded with light and Neville’s lips left hers. Hermione stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. “I came looking for you,” she squeaked. 

“We got stuck,” Ginny replied breathlessly. 

Hermione’s lips twitched. “Right. Well, they’re cutting the cake.” 

“Thanks.” 

Barely concealing a grin, Hermione turned and left. 

Neville stepped back, disentangling himself from Ginny. “Well,” he grinned. “At least it wasn’t Snape.”


End file.
